Sneaky Little Ghost Monument
by So Much Tea
Summary: The Doctor and the TARDIS haven't been seeing eye-to-eye recently due to one woman: Yasmin Khan. And the Doctor can't, for the life of her, figure out why. Entirely Thasmin.


**Man Up**

* * *

The TARDIS was sulking. This was not an rare thing for her, as she tended to sulk, on average, twice a week. Sometimes it was because the Doctor had abandoned her for a little longer than the TARDIS would have liked — not on purpose, the Doctor would clarify, as the engines thunked and hissed at her. She tried to explain that it's hard to gauge how long they'll be when they land, but the TARDIS was having _none_ of it.

'You'd think you'd be used to it,' The Doctor told the TARDIS one night when it was just the two of them. 'It's been, what, centuries — _no,_ a _millennium_ now. No, wait. _Two_ millennia. Am I really that old?'

But some things never changed.

Sometimes it was due to her friends — or companions. It had taken the TARDIS a while to come around to Amy. It had taken her even longer to warm to Clara, and she'd had a guilty habit of throwing her out her bed in the middle of the night. The Doctor knew why that was; Clara and the TARDIS were very much alike, even if neither would admit it. It hadn't taken her _too_ long to come around to Rose, and although she hadn't been too fussed on Martha at the start, something drew the TARDIS to her. She didn't even bat an eyelid at Donna.

As for these three, she seemed to like them. She hummed and buzzed when they were around, lively and talkative, just how the Doctor liked it. She also had a sneaky suspicion that the TARDIS was the reason it took the Doctor a few goes to drop Yaz, Graham and Ryan back off in Sheffield. The Doctor had fumed at her after that, muttering about how she'd looked like a _complete idiot_ — 'Like I couldn't fly my own bloody TARDIS!' And that was when her team had come pouring back through the doors, confessing that they weren't ready to give up the Doctor, and the world she could show them, just yet. And later the Doctor had whispered a soft, ' _thank you_ ,' into the control panel when she was sure no-one else could hear her.

The TARDIS always seemed to know. She knew that the Doctor needed someone. Three someones, to be specific.

But now the TARDIS was sulking again. Ticking, thumping, and hissing. None of the soft, reassuring humming the Doctor was used to. She even didn't do that strange noise that sounded slightly like a cat purring when the Doctor stroked her console. She was cold and unfeeling, and the Doctor equated this to her sitting in a corner, folding her arms, and refusing to talk to anyone.

'Oh, _come on,_ ' the Doctor complained when she couldn't stand it anymore.

Her team had popped off to bed and the Doctor, bouncing with energy, couldn't sleep. She'd already cleared out her wardrobe (and by clear out, she meant try everything on, and put it all back— she couldn't believe she was once into _leather),_ and devoured fifty custard creams. A few hours later, she sat on the floor by the console, her head resting against the cool metal, her legs spread out like a triangle in front of her, wondering how long the others were going to sleep for— she had so much to show them, after all. Her only company was the mopey silence of the TARDIS.

'Can you _at least_ talk to me? It's getting ridiculous now. I don't even know what I've done. And I _know_ it's me you're angry with because you're nice to the others _._ You even warmed Graham's towels up for him. He told me about it the other morning. I got stone-cold towels. _And_ you turned my water off halfway through. What's up with that? So what have _I_ done?'

Silence.

'Alright, fine. I'll talk to myself, then. I actually excel at that.' She paused, just in case the TARDIS was going to change her mind. She didn't. 'I'm thinking of taking them back to the Victorian era. Haven't done Victorians in a while. And everyone loves a bit of Victorians.'

More silence.

'Emily Brontë was a _great_ Victorian. Very intense. Think she fancied me. Back, y'know, when I was a man.'

Then something crossed the Doctor's mind. 'Is it… because I'm a woman? Is that why?'

The TARDIS thunked. A scoff. _No._

'No, no didn't think so. That was stupid.'

She fell silent for a moment. She could not, for the life of her, put her finger on it. She thought she might have said something to upset her. This regeneration had a habit of saying things without thinking, even more so than the Scotsman, and she was still figuring that out. But she wasn't _offensive,_ was she? Not to the people, and _ships,_ she cared about.

No, she couldn't think what she had done. And it didn't come to her until the next morning.

* * *

She'd managed to fall asleep against the console, lulled by the engines down below, and woke up the next day bright and alert. At least, she _thought_ it was the next morning; she couldn't be sure. But she could hear the sound of water running, and a few footsteps in the distant corridors, and she knew the others were up. Or some of them, at least.

The Doctor hopped to her feet, her heart fluttering in her chest, her whole body alight with excitement. She pressed a few buttons, and pulled a few levers but was, once again, met with the silence. Not even a good morning. Hmph. Fine. The TARDIS could suit herself. She had a busy day ahead of her anyway. There was so much to do, so much to see. She could take them to the planet of _Noy,_ or _Thorp._ They'd be able to ride the jackinsaurs. There was nothing like a good jackinsaur flight to make you feel good.

'Doctor?' came a soft voice from behind her.

The Doctor was so busy thinking up places to go, and things to see, that she hadn't even heard Yasmin come in. She whirled around. Yaz was stood in the doorway. She was already dressed, but must have showered this morning, as her hair was loose and wet, dripping water onto the floor. She squeezed at it with a towel. There was something incredibly fresh and clean about her that made the Doctor feel self conscious. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, just to make sure she hadn't drooled in her sleep. She could probably do nothing about her hair, which she just _knew_ was sticking up in all directions. Who knew hair was such a hassle? She hadn't had to worry about these things as a man; she'd just get up and go.

'Yaz!' the Doctor said. Her voice was thick with sleep. She swallowed. 'What's up? Is it morning already?'

'I don't… actually know.' She gave a small laugh. 'But I'm awake. And so is Graham. Ryan's asleep though.'

The Doctor rolled her eyes, smiling. 'Typical. Just like Ryan, that _._ Especially when there are so many places to see, and things to do.' She hated the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. What was it about this regeneration that made her so… awkward? She hadn't been this awkward, or clumsy with words, since she'd had a fondness for bowties and fezzes. Even then, she _knew_ she was cool. And now… she didn't know what she was. Not when Yaz was around.

'I guess the good thing about having a time machine is that it doesn't matter when you go.'

'Right you are, Yaz!'

There was a small silence. There was so much distance between them, with the Doctor clutching the control panel, and Yaz halfway across the console room, hovering in the doorway. She'd stopped squeezing her hair. She tucked it behind her ear, and there was something so shy and sweet about the gesture that the Doctor had a sudden mad urge to cross the room, and close the distance between them. She stayed put, though, her hand slick against the panel.

'So, I was just wondering where you keep your tea? I haven't had a cup since I left home, and I'm gasping. Turns out they don't have tea on most alien planets.' She smiled, shrugging her shoulders as if to say, _what can you do?_

'Tea? Yes! Kitchen's right down the corridor, last door on your left.'

'Alright. Thanks.'

But she didn't move. That was when the Doctor felt something slam into her back. She realised it was a lever the second after she'd fell forward with a yelp. 'I can show you, if you'd like!' Her voice was slightly breathless. She rubbed her back, where the lever had struck, directing a glare at the control panel of the TARDIS.

Yaz's eyes lit up. She had lovely eyes, Yaz. Lovely and expressive. 'Yes! Please!'

'No need, Doc,' came a voice behind them, and Graham shuffled through the doors. He was wearing a thick, navy dressing gown. In his hands, he held two mugs. He passed Yaz one, which she took in surprise. 'You take sugar, right?'

'Uh— yeah. Yeah, I do.'

'Thought so.' Then he turned to the Doctor. 'Doc, your hair looks like a right mess. It looks like you've been dragged backwards through a hedge.'

Her hands immediately rushed up, and began to smooth through the strands. 'You're one to talk.' His hair was ruffled and unyielding. Her voice was more irritable than she intended, so she softened her remark with a, 'Ha! We can all be part of the bad hair club, what do you say? Everyone except Yaz, of course, who always has perfect hair.' Her own eyes widened slightly. _Why did you say that?_ That filter— or lack thereof! The TARDIS made a noise that sounded, vaguely, as if she was laughing at her. 'I love clubs, me. Did I ever tell you guys about the time I accidentally joined the Freemasons? Wasn't _that_ a laugh.'

They both stared at her, for a second, as though she'd grown two heads, and the Doctor promptly shut up after that.

Yaz took a sip of her tea. 'Graham, is that a new dressing gown?'

'This?' He looked down at his dressing gown. The Doctor could see his checkered burgundy pyjamas peeking out from underneath. 'Nah, this was on my door this morning. Did you put it there, Doc?'

'Me? Can't say I did. Must have been the TARDIS. She looks out for those she cares about.' The Doctor gave the console a comforting pat. The noise she made in response made the Doctor wince. _Alright, don't bite my head off._

'Oh, she must hate me, then,' Yaz said.

The Doctor's head snapped over to Yaz. 'Why d'you say that?'

'I keep getting woken up early. At least, I think it's early because no-one else is awake. Apart from you. I mean, sometimes I can hear you. Talking to yourself in the console room.' She looked down at her tea. Sipped it. 'And it's always freezing in my room. And my clothes keep going missing. Like, all the time. Like my jumpers and things. So I can't even warm myself up with layers.' She stared at her tea, as if she hadn't intended to admit this.

'My room's always lovely and toasty,' Graham said.

'Yeah, well. She likes you, then.' Yaz managed a small smile.

The Doctor frowned. 'No… that's not right. I'll sort this out, Yaz, I promise. I'll get to the bottom of this.' She hoped her tone was threatening. But if it was, she couldn't gauge the TARDIS's reaction; the ship stayed silent, not even a hum out of her.

'Anyway, I think I'll take this back to my room,' Yaz said, holding up her tea. 'Should probably finish getting ready, anyway. Where are we going today?'

'Wherever you want. Have a gossip between the three of you and get back to me. And if you're stuck on ideas, just let me know. There's _loads_ to see.'

'Alright.' Yaz smiled softly at her.

Graham cleared his throat. 'Yeah, anyway, me too. I'll see you in a bit, Doc. Gotta have a shower and make myself look beautiful.' He grinned at her, before he disappeared out the console room again. Yaz followed.

As soon as they were gone, the Doctor rounded on TARDIS. She whirled back to her control panel, bracing both hands against it. 'Alright, _you._ Out with it. It's to do with Yaz, isn't it?'

The TARDIS made the smallest noise.

'So, what? What is it? You don't like her? Is this another one of your tricks to get rid of my companions? Well, I'm _not_ having it. You got that? Yaz is part of my fam now, and we stick together, you got that? That means we'll have enough of this… cold showers, and sulking, and cold rooms. Yeah?'

An exasperated _clunk_ , like a teenager.

The Doctor took that to mean they were in agreement.

* * *

But, as time went on, the Doctor realised that they were very much _not_ in agreement. Even though she took them where they wanted to go, the TARDIS continued to sulk and be moody. The engines huffed and steamed whenever Yaz entered the room, which the Doctor pretended not to notice.

She couldn't understand it. Who wouldn't like Yaz, man _or_ machine? She was so sweet, soft and kind. She had a way of looking at the Doctor that made her feel as if they were the only two people in the universe, with those wide, expressive eyes. The Doctor felt as if she could gaze into them forever. And she would, if it wasn't for Ryan and Graham. But that wasn't the point. The point was Yaz absolutely definitely didn't deserve this kind of treatment.

Yaz often left her room in the morning, trembling, and blue in the lips. The Doctor did the best she could, wrapping her in blankets in the morning, pressing tea and custard creams into her trembling, icy hands. Whenever their fingers would touch, the Doctor would feel a jolt in her chest, which she was _sure_ was anger.

She tried everything. She tried reasoning with the TARDIS, but the TARDIS would just stay there, in that stony silence. She kicked the console a few times, to no avail. She tried transferring Yaz into different rooms — Rassilon knew she had enough of them. She even swapped Graham and Yaz over, but all that happened was that Graham emerged the next morning, fresh and warm from a good night's sleep, while Yaz appeared shivering and blue again.

'It's alright. I'll get to the bottom of this.' The Doctor said again and again, as she rubbed warmth into Yaz's shoulders.

But the final straw came when the Doctor heard a yelp from the other end of the TARDIS. She knew it was Yaz straight away and, without hesitation, she bolted out the room and down the corridor. 'What have you done now?' she hissed, as she followed to where the sound was coming from.

Yaz emerged from the bathroom, in a cloud of steam, clutching a big, white bath towel around her. She was shivering, trembling, as she threw a look over her shoulder at the bathroom.

'Yaz?' The Doctor asked, skidding to a stop in front of her. She grabbed Yaz's bare shoulders, checking her for damage, making sure a hair wasn't out of place. She looked as perfect as ever, if a bit cold and wet, water clinging to her skin, dripping onto the floor, next to her bare feet.

'Doctor!' she squeaked.

'Are you okay?' She gripped her arms tighter, looking into her face, for any sign of fear in those eyes of her. 'I heard a yelp. What happened? Are you alright? Was it the TARDIS?'

'I'm fine, I'm okay. The water went cold, that's all.'

The Doctor frowned. 'The water went cold?'

'Yes.'

They stared at each other. It was at that moment that the Doctor became incredibly aware of the woman in front of her. She was practically naked — well, almost — just had the fright of her life, and here the Doctor was, jumping out at her like a mad woman. She could smell the perfume from her shower clinging to her skin. She released her shoulders at once, as if she'd been stung, and jumped back. Yaz adjusted her towel, holding it more tightly to her. Her eyes were wide.

'Oh! That is _it._ ' She ran her hands through her hair. I'm sick of this. Wait here.'

She disappeared into the bathroom, into the clouds of steam, and drew back the shower curtain, switching the water on. Sure enough, the water was as icy as the waters of the Antarctic. The Doctor wrenched her hand out the stream of water, and whirled around, fully intending to stalk out the bathroom, but she caught sight of something on the mirror. Written in the condensation, in truly _appalling_ handwriting, was:

 _Time to man up, my wonderful Doctor, and tell her how you feel._

The Doctor let out a small yelp, and quickly wiped away the writing with her sleeve, heart fluttering. 'You sneaky little Ghost Monument.'


End file.
